


Notes Of Love And Secrets

by PaintedandUntitled



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime), Yuu - Fandom
Genre: Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Eating Disorders, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstanding, Mutual Pining, Searching Victor Nikiforov, Secrets, Sickfic, Supportive Love, Yaoi on Ice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-11-16 06:31:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11248254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedandUntitled/pseuds/PaintedandUntitled
Summary: When Victor Nikiforov finds a note from a secret someone after a competition, he never realized that whoever wrote to him would steal his heart. As the notes continued to appear after competitions, Victor found himself eager and hopeful to read every one them. When he begins to lose inspiration in his skating career, the notes and letters are the only things that keep him going. Will he ever find his secret admirer?Yuuri Kastuki has always admired Victor Nikiforov, so when he left a fan letter in his beloved idols locker, he didn't realize what he was getting himself into.





	1. Chapter 1

The gold medal in Victor Nikiforov’s hand gleamed brightly as he gazed around the ice rink. His cheeks and nose were flushed from the nipping temperature of the ice beneath the podium he stood on. As the cheers from the audience deafened his ears, his lips stretched into a wide smile. He had done it. Victor had won gold in his fourth and consecutive Grand Prix Final. After countless days of practicing and pouring his heart and passion into this career, it had finally paid off.

He turned and politely shook hands with his competitors then made his way down to the ice. Cheers still sounding throughout the stadium, Victor’s competitors began to exit the rink, but he lingered behind. He watched flowers and stuffed animal’s rain down in praise around him. These were the moments that he lived for. Basking in his glory, Victor bent down towards the ice and picked up a small bouquet of white roses then held up both his medal in victory once more. The screams from the audience grew even louder as the young champion showed off his win.

“Vitya!” Ah. He knew his moment of glory was now over according to his coach and the tone in his voice. Turning his gaze towards Yakov, he smiled a knowing smile. Victor’s ego could sometimes get in the way of his career, he understood that. He also understood that his pride might be the death of his coach someday. Even though Yakov coached him in skating, he had also attempted in teaching Victor humility since he had become his student. But even so, Victor couldn’t help but enjoy his winning moments.

“Yes, yes. I’m coming.” He shouted over the noise that sounded through the stadium. As Victor stepped off the ice, his coach gripped his arm gently to steady him as he placed the blade guards on his skates. Victor clapped his hand on Yakov’s shoulder with a chuckle. “Another gold medal, Yakov. Pretty good, ya?” Yakov replied with nothing except a blunt “hmph”.

“I think your turns were a bit sloppy and that you entered your third quad with an outstanding amount of shakiness that you could have landed it poorly, which would have ending your career.” Yakov’s face was set with a stern frown, but Victor could see the pride that danced within his eyes. He WAS proud of his student, but Yakov would never let his big-headed student know that. Victor rolled his eyes and huffed heavily, his head slumping backwards.

“Ya. Ya, I get it. But anyways, I was flawless. Come on, Yakov. Lighten up. We just won gold!!” He wrapped his arm around his coach’s shoulder. Flashes suddenly blinded them as the press crowded around the famous skater and his legendary coach.

“Victor! Are you going to continue skating?”

“Victor! What is it like to choreograph your own routines!?”

“Victor! Victor, over here! What are you plans for the future?”

“What are your planning for your upcoming year?”

“Are you going to take some vacation after your big win? Or are you going to immediately return to your practicing!?”

Victor flicked his silver hair out of his eyes then open his mouth to speak, readjusted the bouquet in his hands and the thick gold medal around his neck. “Well, if you must know…”

“Anyone special in your life!?”

“Are we going to see any more changes in your predictable routines!?”

“How do you get your hair to look so naturally soft!?”

The skaters mouth snapped shut as a microphone was shoved into his face. Predictable. Did people really think he was predictable? Victor stared at the excited reporter in front of him. How was he predictable? He had just won his fourth consecutive gold medal and that was anything but predictable.

“I… well.” He started, but Yakov gently shoved Victor away from the crowd of reporters and cameras then towards the locker room.

“Victor doesn’t have any time to answer questions after a tiring competition. He was just on his way to grab his things.” Victor nodded, understanding his order to leave then began to walk towards the locker room. He did enjoyed talking to the press and getting his name out there. Well, it was already out there… but never the less. He still liked the attention. However, the constant flashing and invasive pushing of the press could be overwhelming to a young man like him. Especially with reporters questioning his hand-crafted routines. Victor pushed politely through the crowds of fans and people, nodding and smiling. He continued to mumble his thank-you’s until a sudden realization hit him. He began walk faster as excitement began to bubble through his veins. He broke into a run, forgetting those around him and ignoring the various “I love you’s” and “congratulation’s”. Victor burst into the locker room and rushed to his locker, yanking it open. As he had expected, a small piece of paper sat on top of his bulky gym bag. The medal that hung around his neck was suddenly nonexistent and his heartbeat thumped loudly in his ears and chest.

A few months before his fourth Grand Prix Final, Victor had just won one of his competitions and had found a small note on top of his gym bag. It was simple and complimented him and his career. Whoever had written the note had a different tone than those who complimented him just because he was famous or because he was currently the best looking skater on the planet. The way the note was written was friendly and… beautiful. It explained how inspiring Victor was and how his skating was like poetry on ice. Of course he had heard that he was an inspiration to many people from many fans because he was Victor Nikiforov, but to be told that his skating was like poetry on ice was somewhat compelling and different. It was different from the fast and sometimes overwhelming buzzing of his career. That night Victor searched most of the night for the person who had left him such a gift, but unfortunately he had no luck. They had left no trace and seemed to have vanished into thin air. Since then, after every competition, Victor continued to find the notes and search for this person. Pretty soon, he found himself eager to receive and read them after his competitions. Sometimes they included popular song lyrics or even song recommendations. Or occasionally small poetic saying were written in the swirly handwriting that Victor had soon come to love. A broad smile formed across Victor’s face as he opened the piece of paper, eyes meeting the familiar writing. Again, whoever was writing these made him feel special. Not just because he was known as a legend in the profession of competitive skating, but because he was… himself. Victor was special to this person in a different way than he was to the press and his fans. The skater pulled his bag out of the locker along with the note then slowly slumped down onto the cold, metal bench behind him.

“Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.” –Anne Frank Congratulation on your fourth Grand Prix win. Flawless as always. Seeing you win like this inspires me to work harder in my life, Victor. I know skating to you is everything, but don’t forget your own happiness. Enjoy the beauty around you and remember you matter. Until next time… Victor’s grip tightened around the note, crinkling the edges.

His own happiness… It was true that he had been struggling to find some time away from skating and he had to admit that he didn’t think about that aspect of his life too often. He was always wrapped up in his career and choreographing his routine and practicing, that he tend to forget to think about his own happiness. But why was it okay to feel this way? Why did he feel sad that he had such a popular career? Victor had his wonderful poodle, Makkachin, a coach that actually put up with his proud attitude, a successful career, a nice apartment, and an amazing talent that he could share with the world. But despite all of that, recently he would find himself losing his own inspiration or losing sight of his purpose in his career. In the past year, he began to slowly notice that something was missing. But somehow every note he received that encouraged him to keep going and remind him that he matters seemed to settle his racing thoughts. Victor had to admit though, it was actually kind of nice having someone know him so well.

“VITYA!” Victor jumped and his head whipped around to meet his frustrated coach. “Why haven’t you changed into your shoes? We have a plane to catch early tomorrow morning. I swear I’m losing my hair because of you and the other back at home. Now get going. I’ll meet you outside.” Yakov began to rant angrily in Russian as he paced out of the locker room. Victor chuckled quietly and glanced back down at the letter in his hand then stuffed it into his pocket. He changed into his shoes then placed his skates in his bag. Shrugging his coat on then throwing his bag around his shoulder, Victor made his way out of locker room. He paused then looked back over his shoulder, hoping to see whoever left the note.

“Vitya! VITYA!” Victor thew his gym bag over his shoulder then head towards the lobby, the writing of the letter running over and over through his thoughts. He wanted to find this mysterious person. No, Victor NEEDED to find this person. He and Yakov walked out of the arena to meet screaming fans. Victor plastered a smile on his face and waved, but his eyes wandered as he searched for the person who wrote the letter. With a sigh he climbed into a limo with his angry and ranting coach. Victor gazed through the window at the large building and the sea of fans, wondering about the person behind the words. “Until next time…” He whispered to himself as the limo made its way to the hotel and away from the rink.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Second place. Victor Nikiforov was currently in second place and his fifth Grand Prix Final was just a week away. He stared at the names and scores above him, tugging on his glove. Second place wasn’t good enough to Victor. Especially after a year of choreographing his routine till his feet bled. He knew he could do better, but he also knew he was lacking something. Maybe his choreography was lacking? Or maybe it was just the lack of inspiration? Passion? He was twenty-seven and he still couldn’t find out what was missing in his life. Was this how it was going to be for the rest of his life? Second place, predictable, and spiritless? “Ey, Victor!” The familiar condescending voice of Jean-Jacques Leroy barked. “Vonderful.” Victor whispered under his breath then spun around to meet his fellow competitor with a fake smile. “Hi, J.J.”

“Good job on your routine today. You know… I saw you wobbling a bit out there today, Victor. Maybe I can teach you some moves? Is Victor Nikiforov losing his game?” Victor’s jaw locked in a firm and thin smile. “Mm. Thank you. I’ll focus on that when I get my gold medal.” He bit cheerfully.

J.J winked then swaggered away then began to pose for the photographers and reporters. Victor wasn’t sure if he could keep up with his career anymore… How could he keep up his act if even J.J was beginning to see him slip? Of course, he still loved ice skating though. The ice was the only place where he could actually think and focus. Victor ran his slim fingers through his silver hair as he stared at the screen that held his scores He would have to do much better at the Grand Prix Final. Victor leaned against the side of the rink and blew out a deep breath. Across the rink stood the young Japanese man who Victor was competinh against. What was his name again? Victor was in second place, but he could never imagine being in a place lower than that.

“Oh Victor…” A slender hand slipped around Victor’s side.

“Hi, Chris.” Victor chuckled then turned his gaze towards his best friend. “Nice job today. Your routines, fabulous as they are, could use a little more… mm… maybe sex-appeal?” Chris Giacometti scoffed and shoved Victor’s shoulder.

“I am the king of sex-appeal.” He pouted. Victor lifted his head and watched the bumbling Japanese man turn red as a reporter interviewed him. Chris raised his eyebrow, lips pursed, then looked where Victor attention was. “Mmm… Yuuri Katsuki. He and I need to step it up if he wants to get anywhere where you are, huh Victor?” Victor nodded silently, turning his attention to the scores on the screen above them. He needed to work harder than he was now. Chris continued to compliment the appearances of all their competitors and Victor began to plan out his practice schedule for the next week.

“Mm… he is pretty though.” Chris continued, eyeing at the Japanese man. Victor, ignoring the flirtatious Swiss man beside him, tugged on his glove nervously and bit his lip. Chris eyed Victor curiously. “You tug your glove when your nervous, Victor. Wait, is the great and powerful Victor Nikiforov nervous?” He questioned as he leaned close to Victor’s ear. Turning on his heal, Victor laughed shakily.

“Of course not. I never get nervous.” He lied then quickly shuffled to the locker room, tuning out J.J’s taunts as he passed him. Tonight the locker room was quieter than usual and to be honest, it was what Victor needed. After tonight, he was surprisingly very tired. Victor touched his forehead to the door of his cold locker then opened it. A piece of paper slid out of the opened locker and fell onto the floor in front of his feet. Victor smiled faintly as he leaned down to pick up the small paper. After all the stress surrounding his score and performance, somehow these notes had slipped from his thoughts. He yanked his gym bag out of the locker then placed it at his feet as he slid down to the floor. Victor took a deep breath and held it as he gazed around the locker room around him, hoping to see the author of all the notes and letters. He slowly opened the letter then froze. The written on the paper in the familiar swirly handwriting was a phone number.

Along with the phone number it read: “Let’s talk.”


	2. Pad Thai and Missed Calls

 

Yuuri Katsuki sat motionless on his bed in the hotel room he was staying. Across the room, on top of the other queen bed, laid his buzzing cellphone. He had been nervous before. Hell, he even battled with anxiety, but this… this was the scariest thing (and probably the stupidest) he had ever done.

His phone went silent, its screen fading to black once more. Yuuri wrung his hands together over and over and over, till his skin was raw and red. He stared at his phone, biting his lips so hard that he tasted blood. He had given his number to Victor Nikiforov. Yuuri mentally smacked himself repetitively, cursing himself for his actions. He never meant for everything to go this far.

Yuuri had always admired Victor Nikiforov since he had begun skating at an early age. Now, he was actually receiving phone calls from his beloved idol. He ran over the past year and half in his brain, still eyeing his cell phone, terrified that it would ring again. It had just started with a simple fan letter. Just… a fan letter. Then it grew into something more. A friendship, maybe? A fantasy? A dream? Well, whatever it was, it’s not like Victor ever wrote back or searched for his secret admirer. Wait, was that was Yuuri was? Just a secret admirer? A crazed fan who was stalking his idol who was now his competitor?

His phone began to ring noisily again, filling the room with its chirping ringtone. Yuuri bit his nails, scooting away on the bed opposite to him. He couldn’t answer it. He physically could not bring himself to answer it. Sending Victor notes secretly without him knowing who we was is a lot easier that actually talking to him, let alone competing beside him. He glanced at the night sky out the window, desperately thinking of a way to escape the situation he was in. Throwing his phone out the window was an option. Or maybe flushing it down the toilet. Maybe he could just throw it outside of the hotel and into the road then pray it would be destroyed by a car.

A loud knock on the door thumped loudly, causing Yuuri to flinch and yelp. Was he here? Did Victor Nikiforov find him? How the world did Victor find him? Maybe instead of throwing his phone out the window, Yuuri would throw himself out. It would be better than seeing Victor’s disappointment when he realized who Yuuri was.

“Yuuri? I got us some dinner.” Phichit’s cheery voice said, muffled behind the door. Relief melted throughout Yuuri’s body as he exhaled all the air he was struggling to hold inside his body. Just Phichit. He rose from the bed and shuffled towards the door then opened it. His best friend stood in front of him, a bag in each hand filled with Styrofoam boxes and plastic silver wear. The smell of Thai food filled Yuuri’s nose as Pihchit smiled.

“I was able to find us some Thai food. It was a really fancy restaurant. We should go there together sometime, Yuuri. We could get some really nice pics of the place and post them on Instagram to document your Grand Prix Final!” Yuuri grinned sweetly while his roommate walked past him, opening the bags full of food excitedly. When Yuuri realized he was going to be competing in The Sochi Grand Prix Final, Phichit was the first one he called to share the news. Phichit, being his best friend and number one fan, bought a plane ticket immediately the next day. No matter what he said to convince him otherwise, Phichit refused to miss out on Yuuri’s first Grand Prix Final. Yuuri was secretly very thankful to his animated friend for tagging along. Without Phichit beside him, Yuuri would have been even more of a nervous wreck than he already was.

Phichit threw himself down onto the bed beside Yuuri’s cell phone, digging into some Thai noodles. “Russia is pretty awesome isn’t it, Yuuri? We should go explore after dinner! Come on and dig in.”

“Yeah, sure…” Yuuri nodded. He nibbled on fried rice then sat in a chair by a small desk in the corner. His phone lit up, vibrating and ringing once again. Yuuri clenched his teeth, his mouth frozen in mid-chew. How many times had Victor called?

“Yuuri? Are you deaf?” Phichit chuckled. “Someone’s calling you. Here.” Phone in hand, Pichit scarfed down a mouthful of Pad Thai noodles. He held it up for Yuuri, a curious look plastered on his face. Yuuri simply shook his head and smiled tightly, slowly continuing to eat. He hadn’t told Phichit about Victor. In fact, he never planned to tell him…

“Um…” He swallowed. “I’ll uh… I think I’ll call back later.”

“Are you sure?”

“So where was this awesome Thai restaurant you mentioned?” Yuuri picked at the fried rice, attempting to avoid the phone and the gaze of the young man that held it. Phichit glanced at the screen.

“Whoa. Twenty-seven missed calls? They must be desperate, Yuuri.” Phichit placed the noodles on his bed-side table then moseyed over to where Yuuri sat and placed the phone on the desk. Cheeks red, Yuuri kept his head down and cleared his throat.

“This food is great, Phichit. We, uh, we should go there now! Let’s go get some more food.” Phichit narrowed his eyes, noticing the strange behavior from his anxious friend.

“…Why don’t you just call them back now?”

“Oh look at that, I ate all the fried rice.” Yuuri muttered shakily. “I’ll go get us some more.” He stood quickly, pushing the chair away from him and ignoring his ringing phone in Phichit’s hand.

“Yuuri.” Phichit insisted.

“What was the address? It’s late and we should get there before it closes.” Yuuri rubbed his clammy palms together and pushed past Phichit, searching for his jacket. His phone blaring, Yuuri’s friend inspected it.

“’Kay, now its twenty-eight missed calls.” Yuuri glanced at Phichit then shrugged his shoulders quickly, smiling submissively.

“Hey, I said I’ll take care of it later, Phichit.” He chuckled, his tone breathy and tight. As the phone continued to light up, Phichit studied it. Before Yuuri could register what his friend was doing, Phichit answered the phone.

“MMmmm hello?” He chirped, a sly smile on his face.

“NO WAIT!” Panicked, Yuuri reached out and smacked Phichit’s wrist, sending the phone flying across the room. It hit the wall with a loud crack.

“What the hell are you-“. Phichit shouted as Yuuri dived after the phone, tumbling across the floor. He quickly hung up, set it to silent, and then threw it onto his bed.

“NOTHING! It’s nothing! It’sabsolutelynothing.” Yuuri declared, his words rushed. Phichit stared at his bumbling friend on the floor.

“Yuuri. What is going on?” Rubbing his eyes then running his hands through his ink, black hair, Yuuri hung his head.

“I… It’s nothing-“

“It is not nothing based off the way you flipped out when I answered it for you.” Phichit crouched in front of his friend. “You can tell me anything, Yuuri. You know that.”

“O-Okay…” Yuuri wrapped his arms tightly around his legs and rested his chin on his knee.

“Okay, so who’s calling?” Phichit questioned as he crossed his legs, settling on the floor.

“……….. Victor Nikiforov.” Yuuri whispered into his knee.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Victor Nikiforov?” Yuuri tipped his head up to face the young man in front of him. Phichit sat motionless, silent. After a few minutes of Yuuri biting his nails, Phichit shook his head as if he didn’t hear quite clearly.

“Sorry, I thought that you just said Victor Nikiforov is trying to get a hold of you.”

“I did, Phichit.” Yuuri sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“But… I-I don’t… I don’t understand. Why is he… w-wha?” Phichit stuttered then turned to look over his shoulder at the cellphone. Yuuri took a deep breathe through his nose then exhaled out of his mouth. He delved into the story of how he left a note in Victor’s locker and how it had escalated to him giving his number instead of a note after his performance earlier that day. Phichit listened quietly, nodding here and there, but never speaking.

“I never thought he would actually call. He hadn’t contacted me in the past and never sought out to find me, or that I know of. Anyways, I thought ‘what the hell?’ and left my number… which now I regret because I have sent him notes for more than I a year and I can’t even bring myself to answer the damn phone.” He buried his face into his lap, shame and embarrassment flooding his system. Phichit watched his friend then got up to retrieve the now cracked phone off the bed. He returned to Yuuri and sat down on the floor again, placing the phone between them.

“How do you know it is Victor, Yuuri?” Phichit asked softly.

“I… I don’t. But I don’t want to take my chances and answer just to have him tell me to leave him alone. Or ask questions then tell me he’s going to order a restraining order against me.” Yuuri lifted his head and gawked at the cracked and silent cellphone that laid at his feet.

“Well, what if he just wants to say hi?”

“Then he’ll be disappointed that I’m… that I’m some fifth place skater, Phichit.” Tears welled up in Yuuri’s eyes and he looked to his left and at the door to the bathroom, not wanting to cry in front of Phichit over something so stupid.

“That’s not fair.” Phichit chided, his voice suddenly firm.

“What?” Yuuri rubbed his eyes, resembling a tired five year old.

“I said that’s not fair of you to assume those things of him. After a year of writing to him and saying what you want to say, I think you need to have the common courtesy to actually respond.” Phichit leaned forward. “I’m saying all this as your friend, Yuuri.”

“I… I know. But what do I say? I can’t…” Yuuri scratched his temple, frustrated. “I tried to answer, but I can’t bring myself to do it.”

“Then why not just text him. You just gave him a number right. No name? If you’re honestly that scared of him knowing who you are, don’t tell him your name. Take it slow.” Yuuri had to admit that Phichit had a point. After a year of writing notes to Victor and disappearing before he could figure out who was sending them, he owed Victor some answers.

“Okay, but what do I say?” He questioned meekly. Phichit picked up the phone then held it up for Yuuri.

“How about… Hi?” He smiled kindly. Yuuri nodded and took the phone, his body shaking. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply then unlocked his phone. Phichit was right about the twenty-eight missed calls…

Yuuri opened his messages and tapped the “new message” icon then typed in the unknown number. He moved his fingers to type, but stopped. His chest felt tight and every worst case scenario flashed through his eyes. Yuuri suddenly tossed the phone to Phichit as if it was on fire and curled up, squeezing his legs tightly.

“You do it. I can’t.”

“Okay, fine. Lemme see. Heeeeee-lllloooo.” Phichit drawled as he typed then turned the sound back on. He pressed send then laid it back on the carpeted hotel floor between them. A few minutes of silence passed as the two young men watched the screen. Yuuri’s shoulders tensed as the minutes passed.

“Maybe he… maybe it wasn’t… him? Maybe just a really desperate telemarketer?” He whispered as the phone pinged. Phichit gasped loudly and Yuuri jumped.

“Oh my word, he actually answered.” Phichit screeched, his mouth formed in a wide and excited grin.

“Okay, so what do we do!? PHICHIT, WHAT DO WE DO!?” Yuuri shouted in response, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I don’t know! I didn’t think we would get this far!” Phichit admitted, looking back and forth between Yuuri and the phone.

“Ah! Phichit!” Yuuri exclaimed hysterically then covered his eyes.

“Wait wait. Okay, let’s see what he said.” Phichit scrambled to grab the phone. “He says… ‘Hello there.’ ‘Kay, that’s your cue, Yuuri.” He tossed it back to Yuuri who caught it with a whimper then threw it back. “Yuuri. Man up.” Phichit threw it back once more. Yuuri observed the message that was typed across the screen, his anxiety spiking. “Come on, Yuuri. Just say something.”  Phichit instructed gently. Yuuri’s fingers moved across the screen, the faint clicking filling the stiff silence between them.

“There.” He snapped, dropping the phone to the floor then retreating back into himself. Phichit picked up the phone.

“… You said “hi”… again?” Yuuri just shrugged in response. His friend sighed and rolled backward, reaching for a box of fried shrimp. “This is going to be a long night.”

_Ping._

To Phichit’s surprise, it was Yuuri who grabbed the phone first this time.

 

**You:**

Hello

 

**Unknown Number:**

Hello There

 

**You:**

Hi

 

**Unknown Number:**

Hi. Sorry about the twenty something missed calls. I just had to hear the voice of the person who had sent me all those letters. ;)

 

Phichit crawled around to read the screen with Yuuri. With a piece of shrimp hanging out of his mouth, he laughed.

“Oh he’s flirting with you.”

“Phichit!” Yuuri screeched, his voice higher than usual. “He is… no, he’s not.”

“Is too.”

“Oh just eat your shrimp.” Yuuri mumbled as he turned back to the phone. He licked his lips, struggling to find something to say. He began to type then deleted the words. He began to type again, but backspaced, embarrassed.</p>

“Maybe you should say hi again. Last time it made him flirt with you.” Phichit teased. Yuuri snatched a piece of shrimp and threw it at his friend.

 

**You:**

Sorry if the letters were annoying.

 

Phichit rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Yuuri. He obviously likes you. Don’t do that whole thing you do where you apologize profusely when you do nothing wrong.”

“Okay, well. We don’t know if he likes me.”

“He typed a winky face.” Phichit retorted, his face suddenly unamused.

“Could be an act.” Yuuri offered. Phichit stood up and laid on his bed then shuffled his fork through the food.

“You’re ridiculous.”

_Ping_

“Whathesay whatdidhesay WHATDIDHESAY!?” Yuuri glared at his shouting and shrimp stuffed friend then tapped on the new message.

 

**Unknown Number:**

Annoying? They were anything but annoying. I wanted to thank you for the letters.

 

“Told you he likes you.” Phichit snickered then placed his box of shrimp on the floor and rested his head in the crook of his arm. Yuuri blushed and fidgeted with a stray thread on his shirt.

 _Ping._ Yuuri looked at his phone, his fingers still shaking.

 

**Unknown Number:**

So, when can I see you?

 

Yuuri swore his heart stopped beating. Victor Nikiforov wanted to see him? HIM!? “Uh… He wants to see me, Phichit.”

“Mmm?” Phichit moaned sleepily, his eyes drifting closed. Yuuri glanced up at the sleepy form on the bed.

“He… He wants to see me.”

“Then see him.” Phichit replied groggily.

“I… I can’t.” Yuuri shook his head as he stared at the message from Victor. What if he was disappointed when he saw Yuuri? What if Victor just wanted to tell him to go away in person?

“Yuuri…” Phichit lifted his head, supporting it with his palm. “Victor Nikiforov is texting you, sending winky faces, and is telling you he wants to see you. So, let’s wipe that frightened look off your face and relax.” Yuuri responded with nothing but a weak nod. Even though 50% of him believe Phichit was right, he continued to doubt. He didn’t know if he could do this. The Sochi Grand Prix Final was just a week away and he was going to compete beside Victor. THE Victor Nikiforov.

_Ping._

**Unknown Number:**

Is it okay if I see you?

 

**You:**

What do you mean?

 

**Unknown Number:**

You’ve just made a habit of disappearing before I could find you. So, are you okay if I see you?

 

Yuuri didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t okay. None of this was okay.

 

**You:**

I don’t know.

 

**Unknown Number:**

Okay, can we continue to talk though? I love reading the thing you write. :)

 

The sound of Phichit’s faint snoring tore Yuuri’s attention away from the phone in his hands. It was pretty late and after his performance today, Yuuri was actually pretty exhausted. After quickly typing something and pressing send, Yuuri stood up then carefully boxed up the food, trying to not wake Phichit. He quietly changed into his pajamas then crawled into bed. As he reached to turn off the lamp between the beds’ that illuminated the room, his phone pinged.

 

**You:**

I’d like that.

 

**_New Message-_ **

**Unknown Number:**

So, would I.

 

Yuuri laid back onto his pillow, his phone resting on his chest, and stared up at the ceiling. After more than a year of writing Victor, he was somehow now texting. After years of admiring and studying him and his techniques, he was actually contacting him. How could this actually be real?

He set an alarm for the next morning for practice then took off his glasses, placing them on the small table beside him.

 _Ping._ Yuuri’s phone lit up in the darkness, catching his attention.

**Unknown Number:**

Tired?

 

**You:**

You must be after your performance today.

 

**Unknown Number:**

What did you think of it?

 

**You:**

Beautiful as always. Anyways, you should get some rest.

**Unknown Number:**

You’re right. Can we talk tomorrow, любить?

 

**You:**

Yes.

 

**Unknown Number:**

Until tomorrow?

 

**You:**

Until tomorrow.

 

After ten minutes of receiving no reply from Victor, Yuuri assumed he had fallen asleep. As he turned over beneath his bedsheets, he reread the messages that he and Victor had shared. Yuuri shook his head in disbelief and his grip on his phone tightened. His eyes traveled up the crack that had formed after his the wall when Yuuri hit it out of Phichit’s hand. He sighed. The realization that he was going to have to purchase a new phone once the Grand Prix Final was over was beginning to settle. On top of that, Yuuri knew Phichit wasn’t going to ever let him forget tonight. Yuuri searched through his phone, changing title of “Unknown Number” to “Victor”.

Tomorrow was new day full of practicing for his Grand Prix Final and talking to Victor Nikiforov.

“Until tomorrow...” He whispered as his eyes drooped and darkness silenced his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your feedback! :) Glad people are enjoying Notes of Love and Secrets so far!
> 
> I absolutely love the friendship between Yuuri and Pichit, so I really wanted to emphasize their friendship. I wanted to emphasize the mutual caring but also teasing and playfulness that they share as best friends!
> 
> любить- love (by the way)
> 
> I think I might have Victor and Yuuri talk through text for a while. What do you think... hmmm?  
> Oh and Pichit and Yuuri love Thai Food. (If you didn't notice)
> 
> Sochi Grand Prix Final is in three days for these little cupcake. What's gonna happen? 
> 
> You can all go follow me on tumblr: @paintedanduntitled for a bunch of YOI love!  
> Until next time...


	3. Unexpected Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my word! We've almost reached 100 kudos! Thank you all so much for the wonderful feedback and support! :)
> 
> Just to warn everyone that the story will be experiencing some time jumps. Not to alarm anyone!

 “Just text him, Yuuri.”

 “No way.”

 “Yuuri.” Phichit’s penetrating voice insisted.

 “Phichit.” Yuuri retorted sarcastically, looking up from his untied skates. “I already told you. Yesterday was the last time I would text Victor.” He continued to tie his skates then lifted his gaze to study the empty ice rink in front of him. He and Phichit had woken up early that morning for a run to the ice rink. However, five minutes into their run, messages from Victor began to flood Yuuri’s phone. An hour later as Yuuri prepared for his practice, the text’s continued to come.

 “Well, maybe you should at least tell him that? Especially since he won’t stop texting you.” Phichit flicked through the messages on Yuuri’s phone while simultaneously reading the incoming text’s that were currently arriving from the famous skater. Yuuri heaved a sigh and raised his arms above his head to stretch. He steadied his breathing as his shoulders relaxed.

 “I won’t just leave him hanging, Phichit. I’ve realized that if I continue to text Victor it will just lead him on. So, I’ve resorted to my old tactics and next time we’re both at the rink together I’ll just leave this letter in his locker telling him that we… that this need to stop.” He pulled out a crinkled piece of paper from his pocket.

 “But you were all for the idea of getting to know him last night! And after a year you’re just going to walk away?” Phichit slouched against the edge of the rink, watching Yuuri fold to the floor to stretch.

 “I just… It’s better this way. If he and I keep doing this, I’m afraid one of us will get hurt. More importantly, that he’ll get hurt.”

 

_Ping._

 

Yuuri’s eyes slid shut as he hung his head, resisting the urge to reach for his phone. He leaned forward to tighten the stretch in his calf, taking deep breaths.

 “Maybe you should eat before you skate? Food might help you think, plus it always works for me when I’m nervous.” A light chuckle came from the Thai skater as he smiled at his friend. Yuuri shrugged then pulled himself off the cold floor.

 “Well, you don’t gain weight easily like I do, Phichit. Thank you though.” A grateful grin spread on Yuuri’s lips as he shuffled to the entrance of the rink.

“Oh, wait. I forgot my jacket and gloves.” He quickly turned to grab his gym bag then kneeled down to search inside it. The sound of a door slamming followed by chattering voices suddenly echoed from across the rink, catching Phichit’s attention.

 “Uh, Yuuri?” Phichit mumbled as the Japanese skater continued to search through his bag.

 “Theres my jacket… But I can’t find my gloves. Maybe I left them in the locker room earlier?” He thought aloud as he stood. Phichit stiffened beside him. Clearing his throat in warning, Phichit reached down to tap Yuuri’s shoulder.

 “Yuuri.”

“Or… I left them back at the hotel.” Yuuri continued, holding his chin as he struggled to remember.

 “Yuuri!” Pichit whispered loudly.

 “Hmm?” Yuuri murmured over his shoulder, bending back down to search once more.

 “Well, you remember the whole thing about you delivering that letter next time you and Victor are at the rink together? You know, at the same time?” He questioned quietly but loud enough for Yuuri to hear.

 “Yeah, why?”

 “I um… I think that time is now.”  Yuuri shot to his feet then stared over his friends shoulder.

 “What do you mean?” He tensed as Victor Nikiforov, accompanied by his coach and Chris Giacometti, pushed himself onto the ice. Victor spun then came to abrupt stop, pulling a phone out of the pocket of his well-known sports jacket.

 “Vitya!” His coach barked. “Put your phone down and practice your routine.”

 “Ya ya ya.” Victor nodded, the puffs of his breath visible. “Hey, Chris. Come join me!” He held out a slender hand dramatically, beckoning his friend. Chris pursed his lips in thought then yawned.

 “It’s my day off, Victor. Let me get my beauty rest.” He lowered his chin onto his palm in a cat-like manner, his eyes tired yet playful. Victor rolled his eyes, waving off Chris then began to slowly skate through his routine. Phichit glanced side-ways at Yuuri, his eyebrow shooting up. Yuuri bit his lip, nodding silently then turned to perch himself on the metal bench that sat behind them. With shaking hands, he leaned down and began to untie his skates.

 “What do you think you are you doing?” Phichit demanded as he watched Yuuri remove his left skate.

 “I’m not skating today.” Yuuri stared at the floor beneath his feet and shrugged.

 “Seriously?”

 “Mmhmm. Nope. No skating today. Time to leave.” His heartbeat pulsed in his ears and throbbed violently in his chest as he attempted to remove his right skate. Anxiety was creeping up his skin. Phichit sighed then bent down in front of Yuuri, looking at him in the eye.

 “You’re skating today. Fifth place, Yuuri? You have to work harder if you want to succeed. And I know you can, Yuuri. You have an amazing talent and a hopeful career in front of you. I know if you try, you can win gold. Now, deep breath?” Phichit breathed in loudly and dramatically, inviting Yuuri to follow. Staring at the beautiful, dancing skater, Yuuri followed Phichit’s breathing shakily.

 “O-Okay. I’ll run through my routine one time. ONE TIME. Then we’re leaving. Got it?” Yuuri pushed, his jaw clenching. Phichit nodded, an encouraging smile plastered on his face. 

“Got it. Now suit up and get on that ice, sir. While you get your skates back on, I’m going to sneak a few pictures of Victor. It’ll get so many likes on Instagram, let me tell you.” Phichit shot up and hurried to the edge of the rink, his thumb tapping his phone violently.

 Yuuri studied his skates then nervously put them on and tied them. Anxiety shot through his veins like ice as he stood. He wobbled on his skates then stumbled towards the ice once more, everything around him swirling. The ice in front of him tilted and the shouts of Victor’s coach became muffled.

  _I can’t do this… I can’t do this…_

 A gentle push nudged him onto the rink and caused him to look over his shoulder. Phichit held his thumb up in a heartening manner, his phone continuously flashing in his other hand. The idea of escaping and running back to the hotel seemed superb to Yuuri. Taking a deep breath, he began to slowly glide across the ice, his eyed lowered to avoid Victor and his piercing blue eyes. He prayed silently to whoever was listening for Victor to NOT notice him while they shared the rink.

 “You got this, Yuuri!” his friend shouted as Yuuri took his starting position to his routine. The music that he had practiced to for countless hours ran through his mind. His eyelids slid closed as his breath evened and slowed. Yuuri knew the music like the back of his hand and began to let it draw him in inch by inch. With a final breath, he attempted to block out everything that surrounded him. As Yuuri focused, the tune of his music played faintly in his ears. It was only him and the ice now as he spun and danced. Then tension in his shoulder melted away. These were moments that pushed him through his career. The moments where he could lose himself in his skating and where all the anxieties and problems in his world subsided. He slowly finished his routine and entered his final pose. Breathing heavily from the exertion of energy and his face flushed, Yuuri turned to face Phichit.

 “How was that?” He huffed, a small and proud grin on his face from the successful performance. His smile faded as he noticed Phichit’s panicked expression and flailing arms.

“What is it?” Yuuri glanced to where Phichit was gesturing. His hands grew numb and the hairs on his neck stood on end as he watched Victor Nikiforov bend down and pick up a fallen piece of paper on the ice.

 The paper that Yuuri had written his goodbye note on. The paper that Yuuri had been planning to give to Victor. The paper that had most likely slipped out of his pocket while he practiced. Victor opened the letter, his eyes curious. A visible wave of realization ran through him. He glanced over his shoulder at Chris, his mouth in the shape of a small “o” and his eyes widened with shock. Yuuri’s head felt as though it was filled with cotton balls and his body refused to move. Suddenly, his muscles flinched and he flew forward, rushing over to the surprised Russian man.

 “Um... I-I…Sorry, but that’s… uh. I just. Um. I dropped-I… uh.” He stuttered rapidly as he adjusted his crooked glasses. He mentally kicked himself when he heard the frantic tone of his own voice. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. It wasn’t playing out like Yuuri imagined that it would. Of course he had pictured himself meeting Victor millions of times, but not like this… Yuuri’s legs wobbled and he began to lose his balance in his skates, causing him to fall forward. Victor caught his wrist then steadied him, his blue eyes glinting brightly. He peered at the letter in his hands and re-read the swirly and familiar handwriting scribbled across it. Victor’s gaze snapped between Yuuri and the letter in his hand. He suddenly began to read it aloud.

 “ _Adieu. I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave. By William Shakespeare."_ Victor's cheerful look faltered. "Why does it… it sounds like a goodbye. You were going to say goodbye? I thought…” Victor’s grip on Yuuri’s wrist tighten as though he would lose him at any second.  “I can’t believe I actually found you and when I do, you’re saying goodbye?” His voice was quiet and desperate. Fear tingled down Yuuri’s spine as Victor watched him, his eyes focused and sad.

 “I… um… that’s… not mine.” Yuuri covered his mouth with his hand as soon as the lie left his lips. Victor shook his head and frowned, confused.

 “I’m sorry, but I don’t follow.” Yuuri took an unsteady and deep breath.

 “That letter isn’t mine.” Yuuri knew he needed to stop talking, but couldn’t bring himself to. He peeked over at Phichit’s frozen face over Victor’s shoulder for help. Phichit shrugged then slowly lifted his phone and took a picture. Victor shifted on his skates, folding his arms and blocking Phichit out from Yuuri’s view.

 “It’s not yours?” Victor questioned, his light eyebrows furrowed. He ran his slim fingers through his soft hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Yuuri’s eyes followed the movement.

 “No… It’s. See, it’s not mine.” His fingers twitched restlessly as guilt pooled in his stomach. He was actually lying to Victor Nikiforov, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t stop.

 “Okay, then whose is it?” Victor’s eyes ran down Yuuri’s body then snapped back to his face.

 “It… Well… belongs to a friend of mine. He wanted me to give it to you… aha.” Yuuri reached behind his head and tugged on the hair on the nape of his neck anxiously. A sound erupted from his chest and he couldn’t quite tell if it was a nervous-filled laugh or a cry for help. Victor considered the bumbling skater in front of him then pointed behind him at Phichit with his thumb.

 “Is he the one who has been giving me these letters and who texted me last night?” His expression was suddenly hopeful. Yuuri glanced at Pichit and broke down into a fit of high-pitched laughter then patted Victor’s arm humorously. His laughter suddenly subsided as Victor glanced down at Yuuri’s hand that sat on his firm arm. Yuuri brought his hand back and held it to his chest then cleared his throat.

 “Um. No. Phichit has not been sending you the letters.” Victor turned to glance at Phichit who responded with a small wave and the sound of his phone taking a picture. Yuuri jumped when Victor looked at him once more.

 “So, it’s not him and it’s not you?”

 “No, I’m just the deliverer. Or mailman… or messenger boy or-“

 “Who is it then? Are they here?” Victor interrupted, ignoring Yuuri’s endless ramblings. He glanced around the rink and sighed as Yakov barked at him in Russian.

 “No. They’re not.” Yuuri lowered his gaze down Victor’s body then quickly focused his eyes to his shaking hands. Victor suddenly shifted a few more inches towards Yuuri.

 “I need you to help me find them…” His breath smelled like mint and was warm on Yuuri’s face. It was intoxicating.

 “Oh that’s not… it’s not my place to get between you two!” Yuuri slid back and wrapped his arms around himself. Victor shrugged and placed his hands on his hips.

 “Can you at least tell them that I really need to see them? I mean…” Victor lowered his voice and dipped his head toward Yuuri.  “I understand that my endless messages may be a little overwhelming and I realize that I’m being a little desperate, but I just need them to know that they changed my world.” His accent was thick and rough. Yuuri’s limbs felt like noodles.

 “They… they changed your world?” Yuuri whispered as warmth filled his chest. He had changed Victor Nikiforov’s world? He didn’t even think he was capable of that. Victor nodded, a handsome smile growing on his lips.

 “Yes, I’ve been look for them ever since I received the first letter and just yesterday I finally got a step closer to meeting them. And now I meet you and you’re another piece to the puzzle. So, suddenly they want to just end contact? I don’t know what I would do if that happened.” Yuuri listened intently in disbelief as Victor explained. Victor HAD been looking for him?

 “I can maybe talk to them? I’m sure they’ll think about it in time, but-“

 “Vitya!” His coach shouted angrily, interrupting Yuuri and causing Victor to spin around.

 “Ya, I’m coming. Listen, I have to go…” He grasped Yuuri’s hand and pulled him close to his chest.

 “Vitya!” Victor winced as Yakov’s shouting grew louder and blended into Russian.

 “But please.” The tall skater whispered. “Please talk to them.” Yuuri’s eyes rested on Victor’s grip on his hand and widened as he realized that Victor Nikiforov was touching him. “Can you do that for me?” Yuuri could see the tension in Victor’s body then took a deep breath. He opened and closed his mouth then suddenly nodded. Victor smiled brightly then hugged Yuuri tightly, rocking him back and forth. “Thank you! Thank you. I owe you one.” Yuuri’s breath hitched as Victor pulled away and skated away towards his coach.

 Yuuri’s skates stayed pinned to the ice as he attempted to process what had just happened. He blinked and his jaw clenched in shock. He had just lied to Victor and now he was to talk to the person who had been writing him… Which was himself.

 “OH!” He suddenly jumped and lurched backwards at the excited tone of Victor’s voice. The legendary skater rushed over to Yuuri, his silver hair falling into his face. “What was your name again?”

 “Y-Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki.”

 “Thank you, Yuuri. I won’t forget this.” With that, he returned to his coach, speaking in rushed Russian. Yuuri noticed Phichit’s curious and excited look then slowly exited the rink.

 “What just happened!? What did he say to you!? I heard bits and parts, but what did you say? He seemed so excited! Did you tell him?” Yuuri sunk to the bench, his hands numb as he loosened his skates. Victor’s words and questioned played on repeat through his head rapidly while Phichit continued to bombard him with questions. “Yuuri? Victor Nikiforov just talked to you and you won’t answer my questions. What happened?”

 “I… told him that the note didn’t belong to me. And that I wasn’t the one writing them.” Yuuri explained as he threw his skates into his gym bag. He slipped on his tennis shoes, avoiding Phichit’s stare.

 “… I’m sorry… but… You told him what?”

 “I told him that it wasn’t me and that I would talk to the person who actually wrote to him and try to convince them to talk to him.” Yuuri lifted his head to Phichit, guilt etched into his face. Phichit blinked then shook his head as he struggled to speak.

 “B-but… BUT YOU’RE THE ONE-“He bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the arena.

 “PHICHIT SHUSH!” Yuuri hissed as he waved his hands, panicked.

 “You’re the one who has been writing Victor Nikiforov for a year and you just told him that you AREN’T the one who has been writing him for a whole. YEAR!?” Yuuri winced at Phichit’s shrill tone and quickly stood.

“Let’s just talk about this back at the hotel.”

 “Yuuri, how are you going to get your happily ever after if this continues!?” Phichit fumed. Ignoring him, Yuuri threw his gym bag over his shoulder then stalked out of the arena, dragging the ranting Phichit behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAHHH dangit. So close to finding your secret admirer, Victor. Well, shucks. And dangit, Yuuri! Lying is bad... tsk tsk tsk.
> 
> Chapters will be coming out more frequently in the next week! So many plans for this fanfic and for Victor and Yuuri. Hope you are enjoying it!
> 
> Ya'll can follow me on tumblr at PaintedandUntitled! Until next time!!


	4. Champagne, A Man's Best Friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, everyone! Today is going to be a long chapter!

Yuuri Katsuki stared into the mirror as he fidgeted with his tie. A black jacket, a crinkled white button shirt, and worn black slacks. His shoulders slumped as he reviewed his outfit. This was as good as it was going to get. He turned on the sink and wet his hand then ran it through his tousled and sweaty hair. Yuuri knew he could style it or even comb it, but what was the use? No one would care if the last place competitor and failure attended the banquet tonight, so why should he tidy up his appearance?

 The sudden ringing of his phone pulled his attention away from his self-hating session in the mirror. Yuuri answered and jumped at the blaring and elated voice of Phichit.

 “CONGRATULATIONS! YOU FINISHED YOUR FIRST GRAND PRIX FINAL!” God, it was nice to hear his voice. His very LOUD voice.

 “O-oh thanks, Phichit…” He croaked.

 “You were amazing out there, Yuuri!” Yuuri grinned and blushed at Phichit’s excitement then shuffled out of the bathroom after taking one final look at his reflection. Unfortunately, Phichit had to leave two days before the Grand Prix to continue his practice, so it had just been him and Celestino today. But being the great friend he was, Phichit had promised that practicing wouldn’t stop him from watching the Grand Prix Final.

 “You don’t have to lie… I know it was terrible.” All the times he collided with the ice jabbed at his brain.

 “What are you talking about? Yeah, you had a few falls and tumbles, but for a first Grand Prix Final you were great.”

 “… I got last place.” Yuuri retorted. He threw himself onto the bed and buried his face into his pillow.

 “Oh don’t let it get you down, Yuuri! You’ll get it next year. Hey, when is the banquet?”

 “Well…” Yuuri lifted his arm and glanced at his wrist. He dropped his head back into the pillow. “Ten minutes.” He mumbled, his voice muffled and bitter.

 “Aaaw you're going to have a blast. Are you going to talk to Victor?”

“Uh… no. No I don’t think so Pichit.”

“Yuuri. Why not?”

“Because if he found out that whoever he was looking for was a last place loser…” He sighed. “Just no. I can’t. I won’t.”

“You’re not a loser, Yuuri.” Yuuri heard a slight hint of sadness in his friend’s voice.

“Thanks…”

“Just remember, don’t be discouraged. You're so talented and will improve as you go. I’ll let you go so you’re not late for the banquet! Tell Celestino I said hello and text me tomorrow! TALK TO VICTOR!” And with a click he hung up leaving Yuuri to lay in silence in his hotel room. Rolling over and cradling his head with his arm, Yuuri glared at the ceiling. He would rather watch his terrible performance on repeat tied to a chair than go to the banquet and face his comrades. And especially face Victor. The familiar alert text tone that Yuuri had set for Victor sounded from his phone.

Speaking of Victor… 

Yuuri groaned and slowly sat up, adjusting his glasses as he rose. Victor had texted him. Again. He tapped on the new message notification, taking a deep breath and preparing himself.

  **Victor** : Hello, love.

 A deep blush rushed down Yuuri's neck as he read the text. 

  **You:** You were amazing today.

** Victor: ** I’m glad you saw my performance. I dedicated it to you.

  **You** : Really?

  **Victor** : Yes, really.

**  Victor ** : Hello?

  **You** : Don’t you want to talk about tonight and your big win? It must be exciting.

  **Victor** : Exciting? Sure. 

Yuuri stared at the messages, his other hand tensing into a fist. His fingers hovered over the screen as a sudden eagerness lit like a fire within him. Phichit was right. He needed to talk to Victor.

  **You** : I want to see you

** Victor ** : Oh? ;)

** You ** : In person.

  **Victor** : Where? When? I get to meet you? :D

  **You** : Banquet. Tonight.

  **Victor** : You’re going to be there?

  **Victor** : Are you there?

  **Victor** : Hello?

Shoving his phone into his pocket and mentally locking his anxiety away for the night, Yuuri sat up. He knew that this needed to end and that he needed to face the music. He was already down in the dumps, so what more could Victor’s rejection do? If he had to be honest, Yuuri didn’t care. Or at least he was trying his hardest not to care. Filled with determination, he strode over to the door and yanked it open, suddenly faced to face with his coach.

 “Ah! Yuuri. I was just about to come get you. Ready to go?” Jaw clenched and hands in fists, Yuuri nodded. As they made their way to the banquet, Yuuri tried to keep up with Celestino’s comments and ramblings. He answered with numerous “mmmhmm’s” and “Uh huh’s” to questions about his next season as though he was listening, but the intensity of his heartbeat throughout his body was deafening. His mind was focused on only one thing and that was Victor.

 The banquet was a lot more crowded than Yuuri thought it would be. It was suffocating, really. Celestino’s one-sided discussion about a new award-winning routine faded away as they entered. His eyes searched the room and lingered on the table that held the drinks and cocktails.

 “Yuuri, I’m going to go greet some people. Will you be alright by yourself?”

_ No _

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’ll be just fine.” Yuuri ensured with a pasted smile.

 “Alright, I’ll meet up with you in a little while. Go have a drink. Eat some food. Go enjoy yourself. Relax.” And with that, Celestino disappeared into the sea of people. Yuuri licked his lips and anxiously tugged on a piece of hair that hung in his face. Yuuri, probably the most anti-social person, was alone and crowded between hundreds of people. His breath quickened and his chest tightened. The all too familiar feeling of anxiety was slowly escaping from the chamber he had previously locked it in. Suddenly, a flash of silver caught Yuuri’s eye and the world around him shifted. This was it. The moment that he would lose Victor. Somehow he grinned at the thought. In a strange and twisted way, it was humorous… the idea of losing both his idol and career on the same day.

“Okay let's see... 'Victor, I’m the one who has been writing you.' No... 'Hi, there. I texted you earlier and I agreed to see you! I'm Yuuri Katsuki.' No that's ridiculous... um, 'How’s it going Victor?'” Yuuri huffed in frustration at his ridiculous ramblings. He pushed past people, searching, then broke into an opening. Victor stood right across from Yuuri, looking at his phone with a slight frown on his face. Yuuri hated the way his heart fluttered at the becoming sight of Victor in his suit. This was going to be harder than he thought. Hours seemed to pass while he stood there rooted to the floor, debating on whether to face the gold medalist or run and hide. Victor continued to type on his phone, taking a few seconds here and there to consider his surroundings with searching eyes. The vibrations from the cellphone in Yuuri's pocket were making it difficult to move towards Victor.

“Okay, man up, Yuuri. Come on…” He muttered to himself as he ignored the unread and incoming text messages. Yuuri tugged on his tie then strode towards Victor. Opening his mouth to speak was the easy part, but to actually create words to say to the elegant man in front of him was a challenge.

 “Vi-… Um… H-Hi… um…” Victor lifted his head as if he heard something then returned his attention to his phone. “U-Um… Victor. Victor... I need to tell you something.”

_ Straight to the point. Great.  _ Yuuri resisted the urge to smack himself in the face.

Hmm? Oh hello.” His accent was as beautiful as Yuuri remembered.

 S _o beautiful…_

__ “Can I help you?” Victor continued with an eyebrow slightly raised. His gaze was penetrating and curious. Yuuri’s eyes widened. He swallowed and parted his lips to speak only to have a slight wheeze come out. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear you. Do I know you?” Something inside Yuuri deflating rapidly like a popped balloon. Victor didn’t know him…? He didn’t even remember who Yuuri was. The week prior to the banquet and the Grand Prix Final ran through Yuuri’s mind.

_  “What was your name again?” _

_  “Y-Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki.”  _

_  “Thank you, Yuuri. I won’t forget this.” _

Well, that didn’t last long…

 “I’m your competitor? Yuuri Katsuki?” Victor tilted his head to think.

 “… Who? I'm sorry, but I'm looking for someone and it’s really important. Unless you know what I'm talking about, I'm kind of busy.” Another waved of disappointment hit Yuuri as Victor returned his attention to his phone.

“I um… I needed to tell...” Yuuri licked his lips, shaking off the hurt that was picking at him. “I need to tell you something…” He was proud of how the change in his tone caused the Russian peeked down towards him. Victor tucked his phone into the pocket on his chest then turned his body towards Yuuri to listen.

 “Alright…” He replied, his voice notably soft.  Victor looked as if he was preparing himself for something. Yuuri took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled through his mouth.

_ Just tell him... Just do it... _

 “I-”

 “EY, VITYA!” A curt and considerably angered voice screamed by Yuuris ear, prompting him to jerk backwards. The junior champion, Yuri Plisetsky, shoved passed Yuuri, a scowl plastered on his face. “You were supposed to wait for Yakov and me before coming to the banquet.” Victor's eyes lingered on Yuuri’s then shifted as he bent down dramatically towards his irritated companion.

 “Well, you were taking too long. The champion couldn’t be late for his banquet now could he? If you’ll excuse me. I was in the middle of something.” He gently moved past the Russian Punk, but faltered when he noticed Yuuri walking away. "Hey, Yakov. Do you know who he is?" Victor leaned against Yakov, his elbow on his shoulder, as he pointed after Yuuri. 

"Eh? Victor, you idiot, that's Yuuri Katsuki. He's the one who placed last today.” Yakov frowned as he watched the young man. “What a shame too. Earlier in the season, I saw that he had a lot of potential." Victor considered this as he tapped his lips with his index finger. 

"Hmm... really..." his eyes narrowed as he Yuri continued to rant about how much of an ass he could be.

Yuuri made his way back into the crowd, his shoulders drooped and his face set in a sullen expression. Self-hatred sat on his shoulder and whispered in his ear while he shuffled up to Celestino. 

"Yuuri, I was just about to come find you! Have you had a drink yet? If not, I snagged one for you to ease a bit of the stress from the competition." His coach clapped his back and shoved a flute of champagne into his hand. Yuuri attempted a grin as he brought the drink up to his lips. 

_ He didn't even remember me... _

The taste of lemon and sugar filled his mouth then burned the back of his throat as he swallowed. Maybe just another drink and then he could slip out of the banquet and back to his hotel room. At least there he could wallow in self-pity alone...

_________________________________________________________________________________________

 Yuuri would never admit that he was a lightweight or the fact that after five drinks everything around him was spinning. He didn’t care though. Nothing mattered to him anymore. Except the sixth flute that he picked up and was religiously enjoying at the moment. He was a last place LOSER and Victor didn’t even recognize him. Not just from a week ago, but even as a competitor. Yuuri was completely invisible. He took another swig of champagne, leaning against the wall for support. Since when was the floor moving…? Hotel room. That's where he was on his way to last he remembered. He tugged roughly on his collar, trying to loosen it. Why was he hot? And sweaty? Clothes… they were so frustrating to him. He looked down and considered taking them off... He would cool down that way, right? Yuuri stumbled through crowds of people then snorted when he almost dropped the flute of champagne.

 "Mmm… ooops. Don’t wanna drop that… aha…” He took another guzzle of what was left of his drink then continued to wander around the banquet. Tripping into people left and right, he turned to walk backwards to apologize for disturbing those he passed. “Oh geez… so sorry… ‘scuse me. OOF.” He collided with something distinctly shorter than him.

 “EY! Watch where you’re going…” He knew that voice. Yuri Plisetsky. Yuuri hummed to himself and threw his arm around the young Russian.

 “Oh hey! Iz you! The Russian Punk… Or the Russian Fairy... or Ice Tiger... or what-*hiccup*ever your name is. Aha… You know, I never really understood why people call you those things?” Yuri grimaced at the drunken sight of the Japanese man that was glued to him and side-stepped to escape from his clutches. Yuuri moved along with him.

 “You’re dunk, you idiot.”

 “Nah not drunk, you are…” Yuuri smirked at his comment then leaned over, giggling. He suddenly straightened himself. “Hey… you got a lot of talent in those tiny feet of yours. So talented… Don't let them go to waste like I did.”

 “Get off me.” Yuri gritted, his eyes narrowed.

 “But hey… hey listen. I bet if we weren’t on the ice.” Yuuri coughed in Yuri’s face then grinned sloppily. “I think I could take you down in a heartbeat.” He enunciated the "T" then clicked his tongue.

 “Bah, sure. I don’t want to waste my time on some loser like you!” The Russian Punk turned away, giving Yuuri the cold shoulder and causing him to sway.

 “Mmm… scared?” Yuuri knew he shouldn't be saying these things, but the younger skater’s reactions were so amusing. But he wasn’t quite sure why they were so amusing.

 “WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" Various party-goers around them quieted and turned to watch what was taking place.

 “AHA… You’re scaaaarrreeed.” Yuuri whispered, ruffling Yuri’s hair. “So adorable. Like a cat… HEY! You’re like a cat! Did you know that? Cuz I sure didn’t, but now I do. Funny how that works.” His eyes widened in amazement as though he had made the greatest discovery.

 “Ey, shut your mouth!” Yuri seethed, his face turning a deep shade of red.

 “’Kay… ‘Kay, listen. Since you’re a scaredy-CAT…” Yuuri cackled at his “witty” remark then cleared his throat. “I’ll go pick some music and when you put on your big boy pants then you can come join me on the dance floor. Sound good, buddy?” Yuri’s lips were tight as he lifted his finger and jabbed Yuuri in the chest. 

“I would destroy you at a dance-off.”

 “Care to put your money where your mouth is?” Yuuri hiccupped and lifted the flute to his lips, but pouted when he realized it was empty. He waved it around above his head, expecting for someone to replace it with a full glass.

 “Ooooh. Okay, that’s it. IT IS SO ON. I’M GOING TO TAKE YOU DOWN!” He proceeded to curse in Russian as he loosened his tie.

 “Eh… stop shouting. Such an angry ball of fur.” Yuuri winced and slid his hand down Yuri’s face. “Lemme get another drink and then we can do this.”

 “FINE!”

 “Hey, what’s with all the shouting?” Chris Giacometti’s accent was strung with excitement as he strutted over to the two Yuri’s. His suit was neat and fitted in all the right places and Yuuri couldn't help but notice.

 “This fool is challenging me to a dance battle and I’m gonna cream him.” Yuuri’s gaze snapped around the room, searching for another drink. He shrugged and handed his empty glass to Chris.

 “Oh really? I’d love to see this. I can start placing bets with some people. Mind if I join in later?” Chris held his chin as his focus traveled down Yuuri’s body and back to the flute that he was now holding.

 “First…” Yuuri slurred. “Daddy needs a drink… I’ll be right back.” He moved past Yuri then leaned against Chris, a deadly smile on his face. “I always thought you were one of the attractive competitor’s.” He lifted his hand in the shaped of a gun and winked then resumed his hunt for champagne. Chris’ jaw dropped and his cheeks flushed.

 “Oh yeah… this is going to be so much fun. Hang tight, Yuri. Make sure your phone is charge because we’re need to document this. I'm going to go talk to the higher-up’s so we can make this more entertaining. I wonder if we can get Victor in on this.” He ran into the crowd, leaving Yuri with his anger and his unamused and silent coach.

 Yuuri made his way over to the D.J and quickly snatched another flute of champagne from a random tray a waiter was holding beside him.

"I see you got under Yuri's skin. I'm impressed that you actually talked him into a dance battle." A thick voice echoed behind Yuuri and caused him to turn around. Victor smiled down at him, his arms folded across his body. 

"Eeeeyyyy well look who it is... izzzz Victoooorrr." He exclaimed as he rolled the "R's". "How you doin, buddy?"

"I'm particularly excited to see you and Yuri dancing. How are you? Are you alright?" Victor dipped his head and lowered his voice. "Seems to me that you've had enough to drink." His breathe smelled of mint like Yuuri remembered. 

"Enough to drink? I can hold mah liquor just like you Russian's can. I'm just getting started, you magnificent beast, you."  Yuuri took a long gulp of champagne. "Plus. Why do you care? You don't even know who I am." This made Victor frown and drag his hands to his hips. 

"Of course I know who you are. You're Yuuri Katsuki. You've been my competitor this season and came in last place today." Yuuri winced at the last comment and grabbed another drink to go along with the current one he held.

"Well... NOW you know who I am. Every time I see you, you don't even remember me." He burped. Victor's eyed dropped with his jaw and he nodded slowly. 

"I must apologize for that. Honestly, I don't have the best memory. Yakov is always reminding me." He ran a hand through his hair and rested it on the back of his neck, a shy smile dancing on his lips. A wave of guilt passed over his face. "I'm sorry if I hurt you..."

"Ppssssshhhhh. You can't-*hiccup* hurt me. I'm thick-skinned. Ya know what I'm sayin'?" Victor watched Yuuri with an amused expression. Yuuri quickly doused the champagne then considered the empty flutes he held and threw them somewhere behind him. Victor watched the glass shatter on the floor. He considered cleaning it up, but talking to the man in front of him was way more fun on so many levels. Yuuri ran his sleeve across his mouth and snapped repeatedly to grab the D.J's attention. “Hey. You… music guy. Yeah, you. Play some funky tunes. There’s gonna be a dance battle. You got me? Great…” Yuuri threw off his coat and shoved it into Victor's arms. “Alright pretty boy, wanna see some real talent? Wanna see something revolutionary?” Victor hesitated then a wide smile broke out on his face. 

"Absolutely."

"Then keep your eyes on me. LEZ DO THIS!” He began to dance his way to the middle of the dance floor, leaving a surprised Victor behind him. Yuuri moved his feet and body in perfect time with the music, grabbing people’s attention. He suddenly remembered how much he loved to dance just for fun. He didn't want to stop. The music became louder as people made a circle around the spectacle that was Yuuri. “COME ON, Russian tiger, fairy... plisthesetskierson or whatever they call you! THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WERE GONNA CREAM ME.” He twirled on his heels and dipped down so that he was posed on the floor as he awaited the arrival of his competition. The familiar blonde head of Yuri Plisetsky made its way out of the intrigued crowd that was surrounding the drunk and dancing Japanese man. His hair shielded his enraged expression and casted a shadow across his face.

 “Let’s end this.” Yuri snapped as he stretched his arms over his head. He proceeded to pop his knuckles and blew some stray hairs out of his face.

 “MMmm ladie’s first!” Yuuri slurred, pushing himself gracefully off the floor.

 Yuri started to move and dance perfectly towards his competitor. Those that surrounded them began to slowly clap and cheer for whoever they believed was going to come out as the winner. That only empowered Yuuri to dance better. He wanted to make up for the poor excuse of his skating performance and show everyone what he was capable of. If he was going to go out terribly through last place at the Grand Prix Final, he could at least go out with a bang at the banquet. Chris meandered throughout the mass of people with a hat as he began to place bets on who would win then stopped beside Victor and grinned. 

"Best banquet ever, am I right?" Victor watched Yuuri intently with a finger on his lips, Yuuri's coat folded neatly over his arm.

"I would say so." 

"You should get in there and bust a few moves, Vic." Chris chortled as he bumped his hip against Victors. "Alright, any takers!? YURI VS. YUURI! WHOSE IT GONNA BE?" Victor shook his head as money was thrown into the hat.

 “Yuri!” Yuri turned towards Victor who wore a puzzled yet entertained expression. “What are you doing?”

 “What does it look like, old man? I’m taking down Katsuki at a dance battle.” He slid across the floor and underneath Yuuri’s legs, causing the audience to cheer. Yuuri chuckled and bowed towards Yuri as a compliment. 

 “Alright… how about this?” Yuuri caught Victor's eyes then unbuttoned his shirt without breaking eye contact. He smirked and began to circle his young competitor as he jerked to the music, remembering some routines he had learned at dance class in college. The crowds’ cheers fed his determination as he popped and dipped his body like it was a second language. He bent backwards and held a handstand as he posed. He flipped over and slid across the floor, locking his joints to the beat. Yuuri strutted around the dance floor then spun on his heal to face the excited audience but stopped when his eyes met Victor once more. Wait… what was he doing? Oh right. He was in a dance battle with… who again? The world spun faster while the music grew louder and the shouts roared. He tilted forward as everything became overwhelming. He felt as though he was falling... 

Two hands caught him and lifted him to his feet again. Yuuri lifted his head to see who had caught him then slowly grinned as Victor's face came into focus. "Dance with me...?" He invited as he heaved from being out of breath. Victor, curious but captivated, nodded and allowed the young Japanese man to tug him onto the dance floor. He gasped when Yuuri pulled him into his arms with force. He was a lot stronger than he looked. It seemed to Victor that he was on cloud nine as he spun and swayed with Yuuri in front of him. In situations like this he would be the one leading, but Yuuri refused to give in. A genuine smile was growing on his face as Yuuri dipped him. He felt like he was dancing on air and he realized the familiar feeling of elation he once had in his skating career and routines. 

Everything around Yuuri was becoming muddled together, the sound of music and laughing filling his ear. Who was he dancing with? Victor, right?  He couldn't really tell from all the champagne he had ingested, but even so, Yuuri wrapped his arms around his dancing partner. Two arms reciprocated and pulled him close. 

“This is fun…” He mumbled over the music to whoever was holding him while he laughed.

 “It is…” Someone whispered. The person’s accent was like honey and somehow familiar to Yuuri. He really wanted to hear more of it.

A slender hand tugged on his and pulled him backwards. Yuuri stumbled into some other person and frowned, missing the arms that had just been holding him. Chris held up Yuuri and ruffled his hair. 

"Yuuri... how about a little bit of pole dancing?"

"Pole... dancing?" Yuuri suddenly recognized the blonde hair of Chris' and his mouth dropped in surprise. "I... uh. I think I took a few classes in college. I'm not very good though." His speech was slurred as he looked between Chris and Victor.

"Oh nonsense. Come on!" Chris began to unbuckle his belt.

"I can take of my clothes too..." Yuuri murmured as he batted his belt buckle.

"Chris... I don’t know if that’s a good idea." Victor placed a gentle hand on Yuuri's shoulder and lower back to stop him from removing his pants.

"Let's be honest, Victor. You just want this delicious package all to yourself." He winked and began to drag Yuuri behind him and towards a pole. Victor glared after the two and tapped his foot as he crossed his arms. Okay, so what if he DID want Yuuri all to himself? Yuuri was amazing and made him feel... alive. He was somehow already longing to be back in Yuuri's arms. He picked up Yuuri's jacket and held it close while he watched undress. His eyes widened and his stomach jumped. He had never seen or experienced such a captivating human being.

Much to Victor's surprise, Yuuri heaved himself up without a detection of diffuculty. He twisted around the pole then pulled himself into an upright position. Amazement was the only thing Victor felt as he watched Yuuri maneuver himself around the pole.

Yuuri laughed and cheered with the crowd as he balanced himself above Chris. Pole dancing had always been one of his favorite things to do in his free time at college. He pulled himself into an upside down position but the world around him suddenly pulsed. The music. The shouting. It was suddenly all too much as fatigue gripped his body. The sloppy smile on his face faded as his grip on the pole loosened. He felt worn out and all the champagne that he had guzzled wasn't really helping. Two hands slid under his armpits and pulled him down much to Chris's complaints. Yuuri slumped against the tall figure still feeling like he was upside down. 

"Aw come on, Victor!" Chris whined. "We were having so much fun."

“I think Yuuri needs to rest. Yuuri, do you know where your coach is?” Victor brushed black strands of hair out of Yuuri's face then straightened his glasses.

 “Hey… you know my name. Victor Nikiforov know… MY name?”

 “Of course I do, silly. Now where is your coach?” Victor linked his arm with Yuuri’s while Chris climbed down from the pole.

 “Mmm… beats me. Hey, look.” Yuuri peeled off his tie and wrapped it around his head. “How sexy am I?”

“Very…” Chris’ smooth voice whispered in his ear.

 “That’s enough, Chris. I think Yuuri has had enough for one night.” Yuuri couldn’t believe it as he stared at Victors arm around his. Victor Nikiforov was holding his arm. He could just lay down and die from excitement at any minute. Actually the thought of laying down seemed very nice at the moment. “Yuuri. Do you know your hotel room number?”

 “242, why? Do you wanna, you know, go to my room?” Yuuri wiggled his eyes brows and tried to fix his hair with spit.

 “I just think sleep will do you some good. You’ve had a big day. Come on…” Victor pulled him close and began to maneuver them towards the exit.

 “Victor… Victor wait.” Yuuri stopped and stumbled into Victor’s chest. He couldn't help but notice at how firm it was. “You should just know… that you *hiccup* are my biggest hero and I think that you should be my coach? Yeah… Yeah be my coach Victor!” Yuuri threw himself into the Russians arms and buried his face in his strong torso. He smelled nice… Yuuri wondered what kind of cologne he used. “Be mah coach… you know you want to! Be my coach!"

 Victor watched the young man who held and jerking against him in disbelief. As he struggled to find a response, Victor noticed at all the people staring at them, including Chris, Yuri, and Yakov. He quickly proceeded to drag Yuuri out of the banquet and to the nearest elevator. Yuuri followed, chanting and singing “Be my coach, Victor” over and over until the elevator doors closed behind them. He hooked his arm around Yuuri and held him. Victor clenched his jaw as a sudden urge caused him to pull Yuuri even closer.

"Hey... where all the music go?" The sight of Yuuri was so lovely to Victor…

 “Yuuri.”

 “Hmm…?” Yuuri hummed, his eyelids drooped. Curiosity tugging on his spine, Victor gently took Yuuri’s chin in his hand then brought their lips together. Why? He didn't know. All Victor knew was that he wanted to feel Yuuri's lips on his. It was slow… more curious than anything at first and Yuuri even yelped in shock when their lips met. But as they stood together, their kiss suddenly grew hot and fast. Yuuri’s hand slid up Victor’s side while his other traveled up and tugged on the hair on the nape of his neck. Victor placed his hands on Yuuri’s hips as he exhaled and softly licked into his mouth. Every nerve within him tingled when Yuuri responded to his sighs and moans. His eyes widened in surprised when Yuuri pushed them against the wall of the elevator, taking control. Yuuri's knee snuck its way in between Victor's legs as he grasped onto the expensive jacket the Russian wore. Victor’s hands flew to the younger man’s neck while warm hands traveled under his shirt and up his torso. A certain hardness was growing against his thigh and to Victor’s delight he could feel Yuuri’s response. Yuuri kissed down from Victor lips, to his jaw, and settled on his neck. Victor felt Yuuri smirk against his skin when a moan was drawn out from his body. He knew they needed to stop, but if he had to be honest, it was too good to stop. The elevator sounded and its doors opened, causing Yuuri to pull away. 

 “wha-that?” He mumbled. Victor’s chest moved rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath. He wanted more, but knew that it was not the time. Trying to regain his composure, he managed to untangle Yuuri’s body from his then led them out into the hallway. “Where are we going?”

 “To your room.” His said carefully, trying to hide the quiver in his voice. 

 “Mmm… good. I look forward to it.” Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor’s hips then kissed behind his ear. Shivers shot through Victor’s muscles as his eyes closed. No matter how much he wanted to go farther, he couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.

 “I think your room is down here.” He pulled Yuuri’s arms away from his torso then intertwined their fingers as they walked. After searching through Yuuri’s coat for the key card, he opened the door then shut it behind them. Yuuri smiled as he hugged Victor, laying his head against his shoulder. The way his breath caressed Victor’s lower neck was intoxicating. “Let’s get you into bed…” Victor's voice was gruff.  Yuuri’s eyes lit up in anticipation as Victor helped him to the bed. He lowered himself down then stretched to gently kiss Victor on the corner of his mouth.

 “I always wondered if you were a good kisser. Now I know.” Victor studied the man in front of him, a genuine smile on his face. As Yuuri leaned in for another kiss, Victor stopped him by grasping his arms.

 “Yuuri, no.”

 “Aw come on, Victor.” He licked his lips and stretched his arms above his head then settled them onto Victor's shoulders. 

 “I… we can’t Yuuri.” Those were not the words Yuuri wanted to hear. His shoulders slumped and his face twitched in confusion as if Victor was going off script.

 “Oh… oh okay…” His body retracted from Victor’s and Yuuri rubbed his arm with his hand, embarrassment and rejection slowly consuming him.

 “I want to, Yuuri. You don’t understand how much I want to.” Victor kneeled between Yuuri's knees then clasped his hand. Yuuri couldn't understand how much he wanted to go farther… “But it wouldn’t be fair to you.”  Yuuri stuck out his bottom lip and pouted, not understanding. Victor could have melted from how cute Yuuri looked. He proceeded to peel off Yuuri’s shirt and nudged him to lay down. He sat beside him on the bed and massaged his fingers through the drunk man’s hair then settled his hand on Yuuri's cheek. Yuuri exhaled heavily and leaned into Victor’s touch.

 “I wonder if you’ll remember this tomorrow.”

 “Hmm...?”

“Nothing." Victor hushed smoothly then caressed Yuuri's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "Time for sleep, Yuuri."

 “I’m not tired...” Yuuri argued, but a sudden yawn told Victor otherwise. Victor slipped Yuuri’s crooked glasses off his nose, folded them, and then placed them to the side. He snuck the covers out from under Yuuri and pulled them over his barely dressed body.

"I know this is a long shot to ask, but earlier tonight you came to talk to me. Do you remember what it was?" Yuuri's eyebrows furrowed as he stared.

".....I.... What?"

“It doesn't matter. Just remember to take some pain killers and to drink a lot of water tomorrow morning. Promise?” Victor poked Yuuri's nose.

 “Sure thing, hot stuff…” Victor chuckled then stood. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay and hold the man that laid in front of him for eternity. Victor leaned down and placed a long kiss on Yuuri’s sweaty forehead.

“Sleep well, my Yuuri. Da svidahnia…” With a click of the lamp and darkness encasing both of them, Victor slipped out before Yuuri would realize he was gone. His hand lingered on the handle while fighting the urge to go back into the hotel room. The image of them holding each other as they danced wouldn’t budge from Victor’s mind. He thought he had found passion when he discovered his career or even through the mysterious person who had left him letter after letter, but Yuuri made him feel like no other. As though he had just been awakened from a deep sleep.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered his way back to the elevator. With a small grin drawn on his face and a skip in his step, Victor returned to his hotel room with Yuuri dancing through his thoughts. 

 _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ping 

Ping

Ping

Ping

Yuuri groaned as the light from his phone illuminated the darkness around him. He bitterly pried his eyes open despite the raging headache he was enduring. His limbs felt heavy as if weights were holding him down. All he wanted was to sink into his mattress, go back to sleep and never wake up. 

Ping 

Ping

Yuuri's unsteady gaze searched for the clock that sat beside his bed. 5:30. He needed to be at the airport in two hours and he hadn't even started packing. With a shaky hand, he grasped his phone and rolled onto his back. He wiped away the trail of drool that was traveling down his chin with the back of arm then clicked the message icon. 

** Victor ** : Hi.

** Victor ** : I know it's early, but I can't believe what happened last night.

** Victor ** : I met somebody: D

** Victor ** : And don't worry. I forgive you for not showing up. But besides that. He was amazing.

** Victor ** : I can't remember the last time I danced like that

** Victor ** : I apologize if I woke you up. 

Who the hell was he talking about? Yuuri dropped his phone onto his chest with a moan. Victor was his hero, yes, but he had to admit that his idol was really bad at timing. He pulled himself up, but winced as a wave of dizziness and pain flooded his head. 

"What happened last night?" He muttered to himself while he searched for his glasses. What DID happen last night? All he remembered was the champagne, blaring music, and his anti-social habits. He also recalled his unwillingness to talk to Victor. Had he skipped out on meeting and facing Victor? He must have... With a grunt and a sigh, Yuuri pushed himself off the bed then steadied himself against the bedside table. The events of the Grand Prix Final flood his thoughts and he lowered himself back down onto the bed. For one hopeful moment, he had thought it had been a dream. 

Ping

Ping

** Victor ** : You should have seen his smile

** Victor ** : Or the way he laughed. He was truly beautiful.

** You ** : He seems great. 

** Victor ** : He is. I wonder if you know him. 

** You ** : Probably not. 

** Victor ** : Too bad. He's beyond anything in this world. 

Yuuri's lips were tight as he read Victor's text. Was he... Why did he feel jealous? He's the one who ditched Victor last night. So he should be happy that Victor met someone... He threw his phone onto the bed with a muffled thud then began to pack and tidy up the room. He didn’t feel like replying to Victor at the moment. Yuuri shuffled into the bathroom, his shoulders slumped. He yelped when he met his reflection. Purple bags hung beneath his eyes and his hair was a tangled mess. Nausea suddenly overwhelmed his body and he rushed to the toilet, contents of his stomach rushing out of mouth. Whatever he ate at the banquet must have not agreed with his stomach. He pulled on his hair then flushed the toilet, disgust hanging on his face. After a shower and changing into a new pair of clean clothes, it was already 6:22. He needed to be at the airport in an hour and he was barely packed. A knock on the door sounded though the room and Celestino entered, bags in hand. 

"Good morning. Ready to go? We should probably leave to beat the morning traffic."

"Sure thing, coach." Yuuri pulled on his jacket then unplugged his phone charger from the wall. 

"So how are you feeling?" His coach dropped the bags onto the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“I'm doing great! Almost packed and ready to head out." He lied. Yuuri stretched his lips into a thin smile. Celestino sighed and watched Yuuri run around the room and shove clothes into his bag. 

"Yuuri, as your coach, I know that you're not doing great. In fact, I know how hard this loss was for you." Yuuri froze as he placed his skating costume into his suitcase, considering his coaches words.

"I'm... I'm really sorry that I let you down. I could have done better, I know and-"

"Yuuri." Celestino stood and placed a hand on his students shoulder. "You didn't let me down. The loss was rough, I know. But that was yesterday. You have the rest of your life to improve and you will if you persevere." Yuuri glanced at his coach then closed and zipped his suitcase. 

"Okay..."

"Good I already have some new ideas for our next season." His eyes sparkled as he turned on his heal, Yuuri following him. Celestino was right. He wouldn't let this stop him from competing. He would skate with Victor on that ice someday. No matter what he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! Tis getting hot up in here it is. Thank you to all of you who are sticking with this story and journey! It means so much to me. Glad you are all enjoying it and I hope you continue to enjoy what is to come. Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, Victor is a bit... uh self-centered. But we still love him, right?
> 
> I love poetry and art myself, so I really wanted to have Yuuri have that creative aspect within him. I relate to him a lot and admirer his character traits. He's just such a cupcake to me. 
> 
> I know that as a community and fandom of YOI, we don't really get to see a lot of Victor's past and his competitions. I wanted to include some struggle in him. So fame is just too hard and overwhelming sometimes for a young man like Victor. I'll dive into his past some more and have some big plans for this fanfic. 
> 
> You can check me out at my tumblr: @paintedanduntitled  
> (If you want to see a lot of YOI fan crack and many overloads of anime and sweet things then follow me on tumblr!)  
> Till next time, ya'll!


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